Lobo Malo

Chapter 8 - Mongoose and Krait

The White House
0932 EST

As he headed to the mess table, Gregory felt a hand grabbing his elbow. "Hang on, Peace," said Kelso as he turned to face her. "I need you to go link up with another agent. You remember that Tactical guy I was telling you about earlier?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"He's doing an errand for Odessa and he's feeling a little lonely. Think you could keep him company?"

"Sure," Gregory said with a shrug. "What's the errand?"

"What do you know about Odea?"

"Tech firm, specializing in energy storage solutions, home renewable energy systems, that sort of thing." Gregory scratched his chin for a moment. "CEO strikes me as the typical codebro."

"Funny you mention that."

"Aw, crap," groaned Gregory. "Vikram Malik's here in town?"

"Indeed, he is. A little bird picked up word the Hyenas are using him for tech support. You get to bust him out while my guy shoots and loots."

"Wasn't he being indicted or something right before Black Friday?"

"The SEC was investigating him. They said they'd make an announcement after New Year's. Guess that kinda fell by the wayside."

"Am I being punished?"

Kelso chuckled and shook her head. "Don't bitch about a compliment. You're steady and you're looking better. I wouldn't put you out with my guy unless I thought you could handle it and succeed." She punched Gregory's shoulder lightly. "ISAC will have the rendezvous point loaded up for you."

"Aside from the watch, how will I know this guy?" asked Gregory.

"The warpaint will be a dead giveaway," Kelso said with a grin.

* * *

Half a block from the Odea flagship store, Gregory saw a rail thin man leaning against the corner of a building. The SHD watch was obvious at a distance. More obvious was the broad streak of lamp black across his eyes. As Gregory approached, he began to make out some differences between this man and Lowell Ryckmen. Ryckmen easily stood six foot three without his boots on. This man was barely five and a half feet, and the beat-up sneakers suggested the heels were very thoroughly compacted from use. While Ryckmen was naturally lanky, Kelso's agent looked almost emaciated, the flannel shirt and trucker hat on his head oddly ill-fitting on him, as if they were just a little bit too big for his frame, and the next size down probably would have been uncomfortably tight. And while Ryckmen's features were broadly craggy, this man had the narrow and painfully sharp face one would expect on a ferret. But there was clearly one thing the two agents had in common. Both of them had the same almost casually relaxed stance, aware of their surroundings but not overly concerned with them.

The other agent smiled and moved over to meet Gregory halfway in the street. "You're Gregory?" the man asked with a pronounced Southern accent. When Gregory nodded, the man continued, "Ricky Tarvey. Pleased to meet you," as he stuck out his right hand.

"Likewise," said Gregory. "Guessing you're not a townie."

"Aw, hell no. I normally live in Memphis. Been out here since Black Friday in one capacity or another."

Gregory glanced over at the Odea store. "Any movements out of the Hyenas?"

"Naw, they've just been sitting in there, keeping a watch on the alley behind the store. Looks like it's the only way in. Still trying to figure out if somebody was smart or just dumb lucky." Tarvey took a package of chewing gum out of the right breast pocket of his shirt and popped a stick into his mouth.